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// 


MIDDLEBURY  COLLEGE  BULLETIN 

VOL.  XVI  SEPTEMBER,  1921  NO.  I 


Vision  for  Service 

An  Address  at  the  Opening  1:>f  the  122d 
Year  of  Middlebury  College 
September  22,  1921 


BY 


President  Paul  D.  Moody 


MIDDLEBURY,  VERMONT 

Published  Monthly  by  the  College 

PROFESSOR  J.  MORENO-LACALLE 
Editor  of  College  Publications 


MIDDLEBURY  COLLEGE 


Chartered  in  1800 
Paul  Dwight  Moody,  President 

Middlebury  College,  established  on  the  model  of  the  older 
New  England  colleges,  has  undergone  a rapid  development 
within  a decade.  Grounds,  buildings,  and  equipment,  added 
to  the  original  plant,  have  enabled  the  century  old  institution 
to  keep  pace  with  modern  educational  requirements  and  to 
accommodate  a slowly  but  steadily  increasing  number  of  youth 
seeking  higher  education.  The  student  body,  now  approxi- 
mately 500,  is  about  equally  divided  between  what  is  known 
locally  as  “the  Men’s  College”  and  “the  Women’s  College.” 

The  institution  is  located  in  an  attractive  country  town,  easily 
accessible  by  main  lines  of  travel.  The  marble  halls  and  exten- 
sive campus  provide  a beautiful  and  appropriate  setting  for 
academic  life.  The  work  of  the  College  is  carried  on  in  twenty- 
one  departments  of  study  during  the  academic  year  and  in  the 
well  known  language  schools  of  the  Summer  Session.  Under- 
graduate courses,  arranged  in  various  programs  of  study,  lead 
to  the  degrees  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  and  Bachelor  of  Science,  while 
in  both  College  and  Summer  Session  advanced  courses  lead  to 
the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  and  Master  of  Science. 

Men  and  women  have  separate  campus  and  athletic  fields, 
deans,  who  also  act  as  vocational  counselors,  physical  directors 
in  charge  of  health  and  recreation,  and  separate  musical,  reli- 
gious, and  social  organizations.  The  growth  of  the  student 
body  now  makes  necessary  a sharp  limitation  of  incoming  stu- 
dents, both  men  and  women,  to  the  number  that  can  be  accom- 
modated in  their  respective  halls  of  residence. 


PAUL  DWIGHT  MOODY 
President  of  Middlebury  College 


Vision  for  Service 


An  Address  at  the  Opening  of  the  122d 
Year  of  Middlebury  College 
September  22,  1921 


BY 

President  Paul  D.  Moody 


MIDDLEBURY 

VERMONT 

1921 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/visionforserviceOOmood 


VISION  FOR  SERVICE 

It  is  a very  happy  tradition  which  decrees  that 
the  first  day  of  the  new  college  year,  before 
actually  beginning  work  in  the  classrooms,  we 
should  all  pause  for  a moment  to  see  our  tasks 
face  to  face,  and  in  company.  This  new  year  of 
study  is  momentous  for  some  of  us,  and  I use  the 
first  person  in  no  editorial  sense.  For  like  some 
of  you  I,  too,  am  a beginner,  and  while  not  in  one 
sense  a Freshman,  in  another  I am.  I presume 
that  I shall  always  take  a peculiar  interest  in  two 
classes,  the  Class  of  1922  and  the  Class  of  1925. 
The  former  is  not  in  as  much  need  of  guidance 
now  as  the  latter.  It  is  to  them  that  I would  say 
most  this  morning. 

This  new  step  means  a greater  degree  of  free- 
dom than  you  have  known  before.  And  freedom 
like  most  other  valuable  things  is  capable  of  the 
very  greatest  abuse.  Most  of  the  abuse  connected 
with  it  is  based  on  a misconception  concerning  it. 
It  is  not  lack  of  restraint.  This  is  false  freedom 
and  is,  after  all,  only  another  form  of  bondage. 
The  locomotive  which  began  to  chafe  at  the  re- 
straint of  the  rails  and  at  their  rigid  disregard 
of  so  many  pleasant  things  along  the  way,  and 


4 Middlebury  College 

broke  from  this  restraint,  would  only  find  itself 
impotent  beside  the  track,  powerless  to  move 
either  the  cars  attached  to  it  or  itself.  And  life 
is  full  of  restraints  like  the  restraint  the  rails 
offer  a locomotive.  Only  by  observing  these  re- 
straints do  we  get  anywhere  in  life  at  all.  Many 
a youth  looks  forward  to  getting  to  college  as  a 
breaking  away  from  certain,  restraints  only  to 
find  that  these  have  been  absolutely  essential.  It 
is  more  than  this. 

Knowledge  means  freedom.  It  was  not  Aris- 
totle or  Socrates  who  declared  that  men  should 
know  the  truth  and  the  truth  should  set  them  free. 
It  was  the  greatest  of  all  Teachers  and  the  wisest 
of  all  Guides.  For  true  freedom  means  freedom 
from  limitations.  Knowledge  is  the  key  which 
opens  door  after  door  to  us  in  life.  We  stand 
constantly  before  doors  forever  closed  to  us  be- 
cause we  have  not  the  key  to  open  them.  But 
there  are  doors  to  which  we  may  have  keys  and 
college  is  concerned  with  slipping  keys  to  future 
doors  onto  the  key  rings  of  our  minds.  Not  always 
a pleasant  process  either  for  the  owner  of  the 
key  ring  or  the  one  who  is  concerned  with  getting 
the  key  onto  the  ring.  This  is  the  freedom  for 
which  you  should  seek,  not  the  freedom  from  re- 
straint, but  the  freedom  from  the  limitations 
which  ignorance  imposes. 

Now  most  new  things  are  dangerous.  And  free- 
dom has  usually  been  dangerous  to  men  and  to 
institutions.  Freedom  was  dangerous  at  first  for 
the  slaves  emancipated  by  the  Civil  War.  It  was 


5 


Vision  for  Service 

dangerous  for  France  liberated  from  the  tyranny 
of  the  Bourbons.  It  was  dangerous,  and  is  still 
dangerous,  for  Russia  released  from  themostcom- 
plete  autocracy  the  modern  world  has  known.  For 
individuals  it  is  no  less  dangerous.  The  great 
classic  instance  of  this  is  the  story  of  the  Prodigal 
Son.  But  every  one  of  us  could  name  other  more 
modern,  if  not  more  typical,  instances  of  this,  men 
who  interpret  freedom  as  lack  of  restraint  and 
who  plunge  wildly  out  on  a path  which  means 
trouble  and  disaster,  instead  of  viewing  it  aright. 

Now  it  is  to  safeguard  you  against  that  very 
danger  that  I want  to  mention  three  things  in 
which  we  must  not  make  any  mistake. 

The  first  is  the  matter  of  regulations.  When 
you  are  travelling  along  a road  you  will  see  a 
sign,  “Danger!  Go  Slow,”  or  “Dangerous  Curve 
Ahead!”  If  you  are  driving  a car  you  do  not 
resent  this  sort  of  a sign  for  you  realize  that  it 
was  put  there  for  your  benefit,  and  that  you  are 
only  being  warned  for  your  own  safety.  But  it 
is  another  matter  when  you  see  a sign,  ‘ ‘ Keep  Off 
the  Grass.”  That  always  arouses  in  most  of  us 
a desire,  perhaps  up  till  then  lacking,  to  walk  on 
that  same  grass.  The  sign  is  there  not  for  our 
benefit  but  for  the  sake  of  the  grass  and  the  man 
who  owns  it,  and  we  are  irritated  by  it. 

You  will  meet  regulations  in  college  as  you  will 
throughout  life.  It  is  natural,  I happen  to  know, 
for  most  of  us  to  dislike  regulations  and  to  resent 
them.  We  may  treat  them  as  arbitrary  things 
imposed  to  limit  our  pleasure,  as  “keep  off  the 


6 Middlebury  College 

grass  ’ ’ signs,  to  show  us  our  place  and  to  make  us 
feel  small  and  under  authority.  Or  we  may  see 
in  them  the  wisdom  of  those  who  are  more  ex- 
perienced than  we  are  and  realize  that  they  are 
there  because  of  the  dangers  on  the  road.  There 
are  no  regulations  connected  with  the  College  that 
you  have  to  keep.  You  can  always  go.  But  there 
are  regulations  which  you  have  to  keep  if  you  are 
going  to  remain  in  the  College.  But  do  not  look 
upon  them  as  arbitrary  things  imposed  for  your 
discomfort,  but  rather  as  arising  out  of  a study  of 
your  own  best  interests. 

I believe  from  all  I know  of  Middlebury  that 
this  second  warning  is  not  so  necessary.  But,  as 
a teacher  myself  for  some  years,  I always  believe 
in  repeating  it  at  the  beginning  of  every  year,  to 
remind  myself  of  it.  The  Faculty  are  not,  as  some 
of  you  will  in  evil  moments  be  tempted  to  think, 
your  sworn  hereditary  foes.  But  they  are  your 
best  friends  and  they  are  more  than  that.  They 
are  your  servants.  If  you  were  so  endowed  with 
this  world’s  goods  that  you  could,  with  private 
tutors,  gain  all  the  ends  that  now  you  will  gain 
with  your  instructors,  you  would  feel,  and  quite 
rightly,  that  your  tutors  were  your  servants,  and 
the  hours  when  you  studied  together  would  be 
arranged  at  your  convenience.  The  principle  is 
the  same  though  you  are  meeting  in  classes  and 
the  arrangement  of  the  classes  is  not  for  the 
greatest  convenience  of  the  professor  but  for  the 
student.  Of  necessity  the  greatest  good  to  the 
largest  number  dictates  some  deviations  from  the 


7 


Vision  for  Service 

method  that  could  be  pursued  if  each  instructor 
were  your  own  private  tutor  only.  But  the  method 
is  the  same  and  we  are  your  servants  here.  You 
do  not  exist  for  us  but  we  for  you.  We  do  not 
pay  you  but  you  pay  us.  I do  not  want  to  stress 
this  idea  too  much  for  commercialism  does  not 
enter  into  the  true  teacher’s  mind.  The  real 
teacher  teaches  more  for  the  love  of  the  subject 
than  for  the  salary  he  gets.  It  is  just  because  we 
are  here  to  sell  you  what  you  want,  to  put  it  on 
the  lowest  plane  for  a moment,  that  we  are  going 
to  see  that  you  get  it.  The  youth  who  wants  to 
get  the  most  out  of  Middlebury,  the  best  out  of 
college,  will  find  nowhere  a more  loyal  group  of 
friends  willing  to  aid  him  in  this.  And  if  by 
chance  there  is  here  any  one  who  wants  to  get 
nothing  out  of  his  days  in  college ; well,  there  are 
here  those  who  will  help  him  in  this  also,  and  even 
carry  his  bag  to  the  station  if  need  be. 

But  more  important  yet  is  the  right  idea  con- 
cerning education  itself.  It  should  be  looked  upon 
as  a responsibility  and  not  as  a mere  privilege. 
You  are  concerned  not  alone  with  being  better  oft 
by  means  of  an  education.  You  must  also  be 
better.  There  is  no  villain  like  the  educated  one. 
To  teach  a man  without  developing  his  character 
is  to  take  a great  chance  in  this  world.  We  are 
heirs  of  the  ages  in  the  things  we  know  and  we 
owe  much  to  those  who  are  to  come  after  us.  We 
acquire  an  education,  not  because  we  want  to  make 
a living,  but,  to  fall  back  on  a common  saying,  be- 
cause we  want  to  make  a life.  The  kind  of  papers 


8 Middlebury  College 

which  measure  success  by  dollars  is  often  point- 
ing out  to  us  that  many  of  the  wealthiest  men  in 
the  country  never  went  to  college.  They  fail  to 
point  out  that  these  men  usually  send  their  sons 
if  they  can.  And  they  do  not  always  tell  us  what 
is  also  true,  that  these  same  men  not  infrequently 
give  largely  that  other  boys  may  have  the  chances 
they  did  not  have.  If  you  are  not  a better  man, 
better  citizen  in  the  community,  better  member  of 
society,  because  of  your  having  your  mind  broad- 
ened, it  may  well  be  asked  if  it  was  worth  while 
to  educate  you  after  all  and  if,  in  short,  you  are 
worth  educating. 

We  are  here  to  learn,  not  mere  facts,  not  the 
sort  of  things  we  can  find  out  in  an  encyclopaedia, 
but  to  learn  to  live,  to  be  useful,  to  take  our  share. 
The  first  step  toward  this  is  to  be  able  to  see 
things  as  they  are,  not  as  they  may  seem  but  as 
they  are,  and  to  look  life  squarely  in  the  face.  The 
doctor,  before  he  can  set  about  curing  the  patient, 
must  discover  what  is  the  matter,  and  this  simple 
rule  in  medicine  has  unfortunately  been  over- 
looked in  life  too  often,  and  we  have  set  out  to 
perform  cures  when  we  did  not  know  well  enough 
what  was  the  trouble.  So  we  try  to  see  things  as 
they  are.  There  comes  in  the  discipline  of  the 
classroom,  which  results  in  a mastery  in  the  realm 
of  observation. 

But  it  is  not  an  end  in  itself.  We  see  things  as 
they  are,  not  merely  to  report  on  them  but  to 
better  them.  After  winning  laurels  in  other  fields 
Mr.  H.  Gr.  Wells  has  turned  his  rather  remarkable 


9 


Vision  for  Service 

powers  of  observation  and  expression  on  the  sub- 
ject of  education.  The  result  was  his  book  “Joan 
and  Peter.”  It  entitles  Mr.  Wells  to  be  heard. 
So  hear  what  he  says,  not  in  that  book  but  in  an- 
other. He  is  speaking  of  this  very  art  of  telling 
what  we  see,  that  we  call  realism,  in  literature. 
He  says,  “Personally  I have  no  use  at  all  for  life 
as  it  is,  except  as  raw  material.  It  bores  me  to 
look  at  things  unless  there  is  also  the  idea  of  doing 
something  with  them.  I should  find  a holiday 
doing  nothing  amid  beautiful  scenery,  not  a 
holiday  but  a torture.  In  the  books  I have 
written  it  is  always  about  life  being  altered  I 
write,  or  about  people  developing  schemes  for 
altering  life,  and  I have  never  once  presented 
life.”  Mr.  Wells  is  right  and  the  aim  of  college 
is  not  alone  to  see  how  things  are  but  how  also 
they  might  be.  Not  to  study  conditions  as  an  end 
in  themselves  but  to  study  conditions  that  we  may 
have  our  share  in  righting  them.  No  nation  ever 
devoted  so  much  care  to  the  students  as  China. 
But  this  came  to  nothing,  for  her  whole  policy  was 
to  change  nothing  and  her  study  did  not  look  out 
to  making  the  world  better,  but  to  keeping  it  the 
same. 

We  are  to  see  things  as  they  are,  then,  in  order 
to  see  how  they  may  be.  We  consider  the  present 
that  we  may  make  for  a better  future  and  we 
delve  in  the  long  dead  past,  not  as  an  end  in  itself 
but  that  we  may  safeguard  the  present  against 
the  evils  that  have  gone  before.  Knowledge  is  not 
an  end  in  itself,  but  an  equipment  for  service. 


10  Middlebury  College 

It  is  not  only,  then,  to  see  things  as  they  are  that 
we  come  to  college.  It  is  to  see  things  as  they 
may  be.  And  this  we  call  vision.  It  is  looking 
ahead.  It  was  only  this  week  that  Professor  Wright 
gave  me  a definition  of  a statesman,  which  I gladly 
share  with  you.  A statesman,  he  said,  was  one 
who  foresaw  secondary  results.  The  world  needs 
men  who  see  beyond  their  own  nose  and  who  can 
visualize  for  themselves  what  is  going  to  he  in  the 
years  when  they  are  dead.  The  men  who  have 
amassed  great  fortunes  have  left  some  heritages 
we  are  not  thankful  for  always,  hut  the  really 
large  fortunes  have  always  been  amassed  by  men 
who  looked  years  beyond  their  fellow  men  and 
who,  while  they  were  engaged  upon  their  work, 
were  probably  called  fools.  It  is  the  position 
where  we  can  see  ahead  that  we  need,  and  this 
college  will  give  us  if  we  are  willing. 

In  1917  when  the  regiment  which  went  from 
this  state  was  being  recruited,  I was  sent  on  re- 
cruiting duty  into  a part  of  the  state  some  dis- 
tance from  here.  I had  an  experience  one  morn- 
ing which  has  always  remained  with  me.  Another 
officer  and  myself  visited  a family  in  which  we 
understood  there  were  two  boys,  one  or  both  of 
whom  should  serve  their  country.  It  was  one  of 
those  farms  typical  of  Vermont — broad  acres  on 
a great  hilltop,  looking  off  in  any  direction  for 
twenty,  thirty,  or  forty  miles.  We  found  the  two 
boys  and  we  had  no  trouble  persuading  them  of 
their  duty.  The  only  thing  which  had  held  them 
back  was  the  question  which  of  the  two  should 


Vision  for  Service  11 

go.  Because  their  farm  was  making  a vital  contri- 
bution to  the  country  in  foodstuffs,  they  had  reason 
to  believe  that  the  farm  should  he  operated.  Both 
wanted  to  go,  both  felt  that  one  should  stay,  and 
they  had  not  been  able  to  decide  which  should  go 
and  which  should  stay.  Later  one  of  them  joined 
the  regiment  and  left  his  brother  to  serve  his 
country  in  a more  prosaic  way,  but  with  equal 
patriotism. 

We  left  that  farm  and  plunged  down  into  the 
valley  where  there  was  another  farm,  not  so  large, 
with  three  hoys  upon  it.  It  was  a farm  com- 
pletely shut  in  by  hills,  at  the  bottom  of  a valley, 
and  you  could  not  see  in  any  direction  for  more 
than  half  or  three-quarters  of  a mile.  We  found 
absolutely  no  interest  on  the  part  of  these  three 
strapping  lads.  It  was  not  their  war,  they  didn’t 
care  what  the  enemy  did,  and  they  were  firmly  re- 
solved that  they  themselves  would  not  fight.  It 
was  not  for  any  lofty,  conscientious  scruples,  but 
just  sheer  narrow-mindedness  and  indifference. 

I have  often  wondered  since,  if  the  difference 
between  the  outlooks  in  these  two  farms  was  not 
the  result  of  their  geographical  situation — the 
broad,  far-seeing  view  being  developed  in  the 
men  who  lived  on  the  hilltop  and  looked  out  for 
many  miles;  the  utterly  narrow,  selfish,  squalid 
viewpoint  belonging  to  those  who  lived  in  the 
valley  and  never  found  themselves  stirred  by  the 
sight  of  great  distances.  This  is  what  education 
does  or  ought  to  do.  It  takes  men  up  from  the 
narrow  valley  to  the  hilltop  where  long  looks  into 


12  Middlebury  College 

the  past  and  contemplations  of  the  future  prepare 
them  better  for  the  duties  of  the  day. 

And  finally,  there  is  a verse  which  sums  it  all 
up  better  than  any  words  of  mine,  a verse  which 
some  of  you  as  you  go  on  in  life  are  going,  like 
myself,  to  love  more  and  more  with  each  passing 
year,  “Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  His 
beauty,  they  shall  behold  the  land  that  stretches 
afar.”  There  is  no  such  factor  in  education  as 
God.  The  love  of  truth  has  been  implanted  in 
men  by  God  and  the  great  lovers  of  God  in  history 
have  always  been  those  men  who  dared  most  for 
truth.  It  has  been  when  men  made  for  them- 
selves narrow,  impossible  conceptions  of  God  that 
they  became  hostile  to  the  truth.  There  have  been 
times  to  the  discredit  of  the  Church  when  it  has 
been  hostile  to  learning.  But  it  has  always  been 
at  a time  when  her  spiritual  life  was  at  its  lowest. 
God-fearing  men  have  been  from  the  beginning 
the  founders  of  colleges  and  the  men  who  have 
made  sacrifices  for  them.  It  was  not  the  gay 
cavaliers  of  Charles  who  were  responsible  for  the 
colleges  of  New  England,  but  the  believers  in  God 
who  were  willing  to  risk  their  lives  for  the  sake 
of  the  truth  as  they  saw  it.  If  your  days  of  study 
are  what  God  wills  they  should  be,  then  you  will 
see  the  King  in  His  beauty,  God  Himself  will  be 
more  real  to  you.  The  telescope  and  the  micro- 
scope will  reveal  His  workings  to  you.  And  you 
will  see  the  land  which  is  afar  off,  the  breadth  of 
view  will  be  yours  which  lifts  you  above  the 
common,  the  petty,  and  makes  life  worth  while. 


Entered  as  second-class  matter  at  the  Post  Office,  Middlebury. 
Vermont,  under  act  of  Congress  of  July,  1894 


